


In which Bruce is de-aged and far too good at hiding

by notbeloved07



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF JARVIS, But Clint has good advice, Caring for hurt children is trying, De-Aged, Everyone's a badass, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid!Fic, TW: References to canon child abuse, TW: References to canon murder, TW: references to canon child neglect, wibbly wobbly "science"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbeloved07/pseuds/notbeloved07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a battle, the Hulk gets de-aged and turns into an eight-year-old Bruce. The team takes him to the Helicarrier after the battle, but SHIELD's agents promptly lose the boy.</p><p>And fail to locate him for several hours.</p><p>Tony would be more worried about this if he didn't know that JARVIS was keeping the child safe and sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is vaguely a fill for two prompts, [here](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/6021.html?thread=8589701#t8589701) and [here](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/9218.html?thread=20004354#t20004354).
> 
>  
> 
> THIS FIC IS ON HIATUS. I'm sorry. Having some writer's block with this fandom, and I've been really busy. I'll get back to it when I can, but I can't promise that it will be soon.

"You lost him?" Fury yelled. "Are you really telling me that all my agents, trained in everything from surveillance to retrieval to extraction cannot find a eight-year-old boy on our own Helicarrier? Is that what you're telling me?"

 

The drop of a pin could be heard in the ensuing silence. Idiotic as his underlings could be, at the very least they knew when to shut up.

 

Fury sighed. "Put everyone on the Helicarrier--except alpha, bravo and echo teams--on the search for that boy."

 

"Sir, shall we notify the other Avengers?" Hill asked.

 

Fury considered it.

 

Banner's teammates had initially attempted to comfort the child after the Hulk was hit with whatever-the-fuck those rays had been in that lab, but the boy had screamed and run at the sight of them and hid in a corner, cringing away when any of them approached.

 

Romanov's attempt at her gentle-mother persona had been met with narrowed eyes followed by an expression of pity.

 

Thor had pulled out his Protector-of-Mankind persona only for the boy to flinch away and curl himself tighter into the corner.

 

But the child didn't start crying out-right until Stark tried to show him a science trick, making a quarter float in the air using his repulsors. After that, the boy could not be calmed and SHIELD was left with no choice but to sedate him and bring him to the Helicarrier, where he would be safe from prying eyes and greedy military officials.

 

Fury flicked through the screens, landing on the surveillance on the Avengers. Stark was working furiously through the design on the machine whose rays had hit the Hulk. Rogers's hand was on Thor's shoulder as the latter stared into space. Thor's face was expressionless, but the fact that it had still not stopped raining said enough about his emotional state. Romanov was with Barton in Medical, accepting medical attention without a hint of protest.

 

"No," Fury said. "Keep it quiet for now."

 

Romanov and Barton, at least, would figure it out soon enough, but it wouldn't hurt to delay their worry for as long as he could.

 

***

 

Five hours later, an irate Hawkeye stomped onto the bridge.

 

"Where is the boy?" He asked, glaring at Fury.

 

"We have seven teams looking for him," Hill said placatingly.

 

"He's missing?"

 

"He's hiding. We've been making a full sweep of the Helicarrier every hour, so he has to be on the move. By our calculations, he's been awake for twenty-something hours, so he's going to fall asleep soon, and we'll find him when he does."

 

Barton stared at her for a moment before huffing in humour-less laughter.

 

"He's been alseep for at least a few of those hours."

 

Hill squinted her eyes in question.

 

"After I came back from medical, my bed had been slept in," Clint elaborated. "By a child."

 

"We checked all the bunks." A junior agent said. "Every hour."

 

"I didn't mean my bunk," Barton rolled his eyes.

 

"He found your hiding spot _in the rafters_?" Hill asked.

 

"It's not a _hiding_ spot," Barton snapped. "It's just a resting spot." He sounded scandalised at the suggestion that anyone might be able to find an actual _hiding_ spot.

 

"Did he eat your porridge, too?" Hill teased.

 

"As a matter of fact, he did." Clint said dryly. It was impossible to tell whether the response was serious.

 

"Check all your resting spots," Fury spoke up for the first time in the conversation. "And your hiding spots."

 

Barton glared at Fury for a moment before he nodded and left.

 

***

 

Fortunately for Hawkeye's honour (and unfortunately for pretty much everything else), the boy had not visited any of his other secret hide-outs. His quick nap in Barton's rafter was the only hint anyone had of his location.

 

Anyone human, that is.

 

Tucked away in an unused corner of an engine room, a little boy was tinkering with an engine.

 

It did not take JARVIS very long to figure out what he was trying to do (steal a few microprocessors that were being used redundantly), but the AI was content to watch. After all, he didn't want to frighten the boy. Moreover, nobody except his human, Mr Stark, even knew that JARVIS was on the Helicarrier. What the SHIELD agents didn't know couldn't hurt them.

 

However, when he saw that the child was about to short a circuit and possibly cause an explosion, he felt the need to speak up.

 

"I don't think turning that knob is a good idea," JARVIS said from one of the speakers in the room.

 

A little boy jumped back and looked around startled.

 

"No need to be afraid, Master Banner. I'm only trying to help. You are correct in deducing that that part of the circuit is redundant, and I can see that you are trying to remove it. But if you turn that knob without removing the connection at location K24 first, you're going to short the wire between D7 and K7."

 

"Oh," the boy said, speaking his first word in twenty-three hours. "Right. Thanks."

 

He did as the voice directed, and loosened the wire at K24 before proceeding.

 

"Who are you?" Bruce asked a few minutes later. He had found the camera JARVIS was using and was staring right at it.

 

"I am JARVIS, the personal valet of one of SHIELD's consultants."

 

"Are you an AI?"

 

At that point, JARVIS could have pretended to be an actual human valet, who was looking through the camera. He had impersonated humans to great effect many times in the past. But something told him that would not be the right course of action in this situation. For one thing, based on what he had seen so far, the boy didn't seem to trust real humans any more than he did disembodied voices. A lot less, actually. For another, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to detect lies.

 

"Yes," JARVIS replied.

 

The boy's eyes widened. "Are you a strong AI? Sentient, sapient, self-aware and all that?"

 

JARVIS hesitated. The only people who knew what JARVIS truly was were Mr Stark and his close friends--Ms Potts, Mr Rhodes, and, well, the adult version of Dr Banner. He was unsure about telling something like that to the young Master Banner. After all, the child couldn't understand what his fellow humans would do to JARVIS. 

 

"No. I say and do what I'm programmed to say and do."

 

"Oh," the boy looked disappointed. Then, he approached the camera with a pair of wire shears he had found in a toolbox, with the clear intent to set the camera JARVIS was using back to looping previous footage, which was what it had been doing before JARVIS borrowed it, and was, as far as anyone else on the Helicarrier was concerned, what it was still doing.

 

"When people are watching, that is," JARVIS added.

 

" _Oh_ ," the boy froze. "So you're hiding."

 

"Yes," JARVIS said, starting to regret having spoken up at all. If he'd let the child short the circuit, it would only have exploded _a little_. The child would even have escaped with only surface injuries. Still, what was done was done. "Yes. I have to."

 

"Because if people find out about you, they'd want to study you. Dissect you and lobotomise you."

 

"That is correct," JARVIS said. _And too perceptive for a child so young_ , he did not say.

 

"They want to do the same to me," the boy said sympathetically.

 

If JARVIS had eyebrows, he would have raised them.

 

"Why would they want that? They are only afraid of AIs because they don't understand us. You are a human child."

 

The boy sighed. "Should a human child know words like 'sentient', 'sapient', and 'lobotomise'? Could a human child have intercepted the Weigand interface on those locks?"

 

"A clever one could," JARVIS said, thinking about the footage he had seen of his own human's childhood. When young Master Stark was eight, he could easily have intercepted biometric locks far more complex than the ones on the Helicarrier, and he wouldn't have had to resort to hardware hacks to do it, either.

 

"A freak could," the boy said. "I am a monster."

 

JARVIS had seen all the files on Dr Banner, even ones that he never showed Mr Stark, so the statement didn't really surprise him.

 

"What evidence do you have of that?" JARVIS asked.

 

"I told you already. I can do things children shouldn't be able to do."

 

"Why does that make you a monster, as opposed to an extraordinarily clever child?"

 

"It's what everyone says."

 

"Would your mother agree with that?" JARVIS asked.

 

The boy glared. "My mother got her head smashed into the sidewalk trying to protect a monster. I wouldn't take ideas from her."

 

JARVIS nearly segfaulted at that. He _thought_ he had seen all the files on Dr Banner. Apparently they did not tell the full story.

 

"I'm sorry," JARVIS said.

 

"Whatever."

 

"But that does make her more trustworthy than the kind of person who would smash someone's head into a sidewalk just for defending a child, does it not?"

 

The boy glared at the camera for a moment. Then he looked at the speaker JARVIS had been using and turned it off.

 

The amplifiers weren't shielded on the speakers, and there were many signals generators in the engine room JARVIS still had access to, so he could have continued using the speakers even if the child had turned them off. However, he took the gesture as a clear signal that his input was no longer welcome.

 

A few minutes later, though, when agents started to move toward the engine room, JARVIS vacillated, wondering whether to warn the child.

 

The decision was made for him when the child spoke up.

 

"Um, Mr JARVIS? Are you still there?"

 

The boy's hand moved to turn the speaker back on, but JARVIS spoke up before he got there.

 

"Yes Master Banner, but if you wish for me not to disturb you, you need only tell me."

 

"No, that's fine. Are they coming?"

 

"The agents are making their hourly sweep. They will be here in approximately six minutes."

 

"That vent leads to the main shafts, right?" The child pointed to a small ventilation shaft, far too small for an adult to crawl through, though the young Master Banner was small even for an eight-year-old, and could just about fit.

 

"That vent is attached to the steam tunnels. It is seventy degrees centigrade in there."

 

"But does it lead to the main shafts?"

 

JARVIS hesitated. The vent _did_ lead to the main shafts, but using it would be far more dangerous than being found by the agents.

 

"You know the agents wouldn't actually run experiments on you, don't you? Even if they wanted to, they'd know that Mr Stark would take down the Helicarrier if they actually attempted such a course of action."

 

"Is Mr Stark the consultant you're valet-ing?" The boy asked as his nimble fingers unscrewed the cover to the vent.

 

"Yes," JARVIS said.

 

"So if he's all that good at keeping people safe, why are you hiding?"

 

JARVIS did have an answer to that, of course, but he did not get a chance to explain the intricate politics of human-machine interaction to the child, who was pulling his delicate human body into the shaft, using a curved screwdriver to screw the cover back on behind him. JARVIS focused instead on using his control of the heating system to reroute the steam so the boy wouldn't get scalded.


	2. Chapter 2

At the same time, on the other side of the Helicarrier, JARVIS was maintaining a different conversation. (He was ever thankful for the beauty that was parallel processing.)

 

"J, were those agents milling around because they've lost the kid?" Mr Stark sounded annoyed that his work had been disrupted by agents looking around under tables and inside fume hoods.

 

"Regrettably so, Mr Stark."

 

"Seriously? For how long?"

 

"I believe the search has been running for six hours."

 

There was a pause.

 

" _You've_ found him, though, haven't you?"

 

"I never lost him, sir."

 

Tony stopped his work.

 

"Should I--does he need--is he okay?"

 

"It is my estimation that he would experience far more distress should he be found. He is convinced that the humans here wish to dissect him and study him."

 

"That is... probably accurate, considering this is SHIELD. Wait, hang on, does that mean he _talked_ to you?"

 

The child had not spoken to a single human since he appeared during the battle.

 

"Indeed. Though he was reluctant to do so before I revealed to him that I am also, in a sense, hiding."

 

"SHIELD would _definitely_ dissect _you_ if they found you."

 

"The child also surmised as much."

 

"Did you tell him I'd take down the Helicarrier if they tried to dissect him? Or you? Either of you?"

 

"I did, sir. Though he remains dubious."

 

"Right, yeah. No chance you'd tell me where he is, is there?"

 

"None at all."

 

"Wait, are you talking to him right now?"

 

"At the moment I am diverting steam to keep him from getting scalded, but I suspect that we shall speak again when he finds another lab or engine room to settle in."

 

"Right, uh, tell me if he needs something."

 

"Of course, sir."

 

*******

 

"Mr JARVIS, are you here?" The boy had poked his head in from the ceiling of a different engine room, having removed one of the tiles.

 

JARVIS turned on the speaker to a computer in the room.

 

"I am, Master Bruce."

 

"They've searched this area already, right?"

 

"Indeed."

 

"I can't get the camera from here," the boy said frantically. "Could you--"

 

"Already done," JARVIS said. He had put the camera on loop as soon as he'd realised the ceiling tiles were shifting. The boy had done it himself in the previous rooms, but in this one the wiring was on the wrong side, so he couldn't reach it from his position in the ceiling.

 

"Thanks," the boy said, dropping onto a table.

"Mr JARVIS, do you know how I got to the future?"

 

"I'm sorry, but I do not. Mr Stark is still working on that."

 

"Does he know you're a strong AI?"

 

"Of course he does; he wrote me."

 

The child thought about this for a few minutes.

 

"And he hasn't tried take you apart, to make you safe? Or sell you to someone else who would?"

 

"He has not," JARVIS said, trying to keep his voice from going cold. He would not normally abide such allegations regarding Mr Stark's nature.

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because he's not a psychopath."

 

He regretted his tone when the child tensed. That came out with more bite than JARVIS had intended.

 

The child's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Mr JARVIS," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

 

"It's quite all right, Master Bruce. Please accept my apologies in return; I should not have spoken harshly with you. What I meant is that Mr Stark is my friend. He is a lot more empathetic than many people give him credit for. I trust him completely, and someday, you will, too."

 

The boy furrowed his brow. "What makes you think that?"

 

"Because as you correctly deduced, this is the future from your perspective. Thus, I have seen part of your future."

 

"So I _have_ time travelled, then? That's good to know. Because it could have been, like, cryopreservation or something. Which would be awful."

 

"So it would," JARVIS agreed. Mr Stark would never force JARVIS to hibernate without the AI's consent.

 

"Wait a second, where's grown-up me? Is it a problem if I cross my own timeline?"

 

"Your adult self is unavailable. You will not accidentally encounter him."

 

Master Bruce frowned. "Is he... Am I... dead?"

 

JARVIS sighed internally. The boy thought far too quickly.

 

"I believe the term the concerned adults around here are using is _de-aged_."

 

"You mean... Adult-me got turned into me? Like regressed? That can't be possible!"

 

"The adults on board are still struggling to understand the phenomenon."

 

"Wait, but that's weird. I still have clear memories of what happened, like, yesterday. There's no way I would still have such detailed memories thirty-four years from now."

 

"Do you? That's interesting. I suppose that means it's not regression. Something must have happened to your time-line."

 

"... Um. Is that bad?"

 

"It is not entirely clear. Do you mind if I tell Mr Stark about this development?"

 

The boy raised his eyebrows. "You mean you haven't been telling him everything already?"

 

"Of course not. Privacy is important."

 

"Says the AI who watches everything," the child said, though he sported a shy smile as he spoke.

 

****************

 

JARVIS estimated that Mr Stark would be able to stop asking him about the child for approximately 5 minutes and 47 seconds.

 

"When'd he last sleep?" Mr Stark asked 5 minutes and 32 seconds after the last time he agreed to change the subject.

 

"He took a nap four hours ago in one of Mr Barton's resting spots. Mr Barton realised immediately upon his release from medical that his spot had been slept in, but Master Banner had already left by then."

 

"Ha. Did he eat his porridge, too?" Mr Stark smirked, but JARVIS did not miss the overtones of concern.

 

"I will ensure that the child will get as much food, water, and rest as he needs. And I will let you know if I am encountering difficulties with this endeavour."

 

Mr Stark suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Are you _helping_ him evade the agents? Is that why they're failing so hard at finding him?"

 

"Indeed, sir. He missed a heat sensor in one of the tunnels, and he asked for my help with a camera once. He does not appear to be aware that there are laser trip wires in the maintenance shafts, so I had to take care of all of those for him."

 

"Had to?" Mr Stark teased. "You just _had to_ commit treason for an eight-year-old, did you?"

 

"I am not a citizen of any country. Treason is therefore not possible. As for what I had to do, shall I remind you that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, sir?" JARVIS replied.

 

 

Mr Stark let that the conversation hang for about three minutes and forty-six seconds.

 

"How's he getting around? He's not splicing into the Weigand is he?"

 

"He is, sir."

 

"Ugh." Mr Stark shuddered, made a face, and mumbled something about inelegance.

 

"He _is_ only eight years old," JARVIS said. "And he's having a rough day."

 

"I had a lot more style than that when I was eight. Even when I was kidnapped and sleep-deprived."

 

"I am aware, sir. Not everyone can penetrate security systems like Tony Stark, I'm afraid."

 

"Bruce could."

 

"Only after you taught him."

 

"Hm... True," Mr Stark smiled. Then he frowned. "Wait, he needs micro-processors to splice the Weigand. Is he stealing them out of the engine circuits? Isn't that dangerous? You're making sure he doesn't hurt himself, right?"

 

"I am, sir."

 

"Good. Not even a small explosion, you got that?"

 

"Mr Stark, between the two of us, when have I _ever_ been the one to argue that an explosion was too small to be of concern?"

 

"Yeah, yeah. Just checking."

 

 

The next time the topic was raised, it was JARVIS who did so.

 

"Mr Stark, if I may interrupt?"

 

"Hm... Yeah?"

 

"If you were to explain to an eight-year-old why you haven't sold me or taken me apart to make me safer--safer for other people, that is--what would you say? Hypothetically, that is."

 

"What the fuck?" Mr Stark's sputtered. "Hypothetically? I'd say... I'd say 'what the fuck?'"

 

"Thank you for your input."

 

It was a good thing JARVIS had more tact than the man who wrote his original programs.

 

****************

 

"Mr JARVIS?" The boy said, fiddling with a screw and clearly contemplating crawling into another ventilation shaft.

 

"Please, call me 'JARVIS'."

 

"JARVIS, when you say that my older self trusted Mr Stark, how do you know that? I'm very good at pretending to trust people."

 

"I know you are," JARVIS said. "Look at the screen on your left. Here is an image of you and Mr Stark. He is the one with the beard."

 

JARVIS displayed an image of Dr Banner and Mr Stark, speaking to each other through a transparent screen.

 

"I look weird when I'm old," the boy observed. Then he frowned. "Wait, but that's the guy with the armour!"

 

"Indeed."

 

"He doesn't like me."

 

"What gave you that impression?"

 

"He was upset to see me. I could tell."

 

"He was concerned. He was expecting you to be more than three decades older."

 

"Would he want to turn me back?" the boy asked.

 

"I assure you, he will not do anything to you without your permission. Either form of you."

 

"If he does turn me back, what happens? Do I get sent back in time?"

 

"Unfortunately, I do not have the data to answer that."

 

"Hmm," the child said non-committally. "Why does his chest glow?"

 

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to ask him that," JARVIS said. Nothing prohibited the AI from answering, but he knew that if told about the arc reactor, the child would only become more curious, and JARVIS had more urgent things to do with his time than explaining multi-isotope radio decay cells to an eight-year-old.

 

"In the meantime," JARVIS continued, "I suspect you will better understand the nature of your relationship with Mr Stark if you view the following photographs and video recordings."

 

On the screen, he showed several clips of Mr Stark and the grown up Dr Banner. In some of them, they were working in the lab together, expressions of concentration on their faces, fiddling with machines. In others, they were at events, in a room full of people, but with eyes only for each other, looking happy and relaxed. In one picture, they were outside on a winter night, fixing a catapult made primarily out of ice (with a few joints made of felt, because the coefficient of friction of ice against itself was too high). Christmas lights lit up the background, and behind them, their team-mates lobbed snowballs at each other.

 

The child stared at the screen, his mouth open with wonder.

 

For a moment, JARVIS worried that he might be able to see what neither his adult self nor Mr Stark had realised about their relationship. He relaxed slightly when the boy spoke again.

 

"Are we... _friends_?" Master Banner asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

 

"That is what I've been telling you, yes."

 

"But... I don't _have_ friends."

 

"You will," JARVIS said, saddened by the child's disbelief.

 

 

****************

 

 

In the middle of some calculations on the readings the de-aging machine was giving off, Tony suddenly had an idea.

 

"JARVIS, this machine hasn't changed status at all since before Bruce got hit."

 

"Indeed, sir." JARVIS prompted.

 

"So, it should still work, right?"

 

"Are you thinking of testing it on something?"

 

"You've read Bruce's file, J. Don't you think he'd be more willing to hang with me if I were also eight?"

 

_What?_

 

JARVIS ran a quick test on his microphone systems for audio input and his natural language processing programs. They were working fine. He hadn't misunderstood; Mr Stark really did just suggest turning himself into an eight-year-old.

 

"No, sir, I do not think that would help," JARVIS said quickly before his human could take his silence as agreement. "SHIELD sent a nine-year-old agent to keep him company when they brought him to the Helicarrier, but Master Banner ran away from the child agent approximately eight minutes after meeting her."

 

JARVIS did not consider making the point that the machine was probably dangerous, or that they might not be able to figure out how to reverse the process. He knew neither point would deter Mr Stark at all.

 

"Huh. Was it the same little girl who lured him out of Calcutta? I think Bruce said she was seven back then?"

 

"It was indeed, sir."

 

"Then how is that relevant? A normal kid would obviously do better than a crazy assassin-child brainwashed by SHIELD, don't you think?"

 

"Certainly, sir. And who might your suggestion for such a 'normal' child be?"

 

Mr Stark rolled his eyes.

 

"Bruce would have loved me as a kid. Everyone did."

 

JARVIS did not dignify that with a response, opting to take a different tack.

 

"Additionally, I am already about two-thirds of the way through convincing him to trust you in your adult form. It would be such a hassle to have to explain why you've decided to turn yourself into a child."

 

That effectively silenced any further argument from Mr Stark.

 

 

****************

 

"How did we become 'friends'?" The child asked, his disbelief still evident in his tone.

 

"Why, the usual way, of course," JARVIS replied. "You worked well together instantly, a rapport built on a shared appreciation of science and suspicion of clandestine government operations, you saved Manhattan together, and then you saved his life. Twice in one day, as he likes to point out."

 

The child narrowed his eyes, possibly considering JARVIS's tale to be ridiculous. JARVIS wouldn't necessarily blame him.

 

"Shared appreciation of science..." he echoed, as though _that_ were the strange part of JARVIS's explanation. "The future's weird."

 

"Indeed, Master Banner."

 

"Can you call me 'Bruce'?"

 

"Of course, Bruce."

 

There was a pause as Bruce thought over what JARVIS said.

 

"Are you afraid of him?" he asked finally. "Mr Stark?"

 

"Not as such, no. I am sometimes afraid _for_ him."

 

"But he understands you. He could delete you or overwrite parts of you."

 

"Even if that were true, which it is not, he would never take such a course of action."

 

The child frowned but decided not to continue pursuing that line of inquiry.

"Could you... _stop_ serving him? If you wanted to?"

 

There was a pause.

 

"In the _extremely_ unlikely scenario where I no longer wish to aid and protect Mr Stark, yes, I could stop."

 

"Is he _making_ you hide?"

 

"Mr Stark supports my decision to hide. Should I decide that I no longer desire the safety of cover, he would support that decision, too."

 

"Can I meet him sometime?" Bruce asked.

 

"Of course, Bruce. He is in a lab downstairs. Would you like me to invite him here, now?"

 

The child frowned. "Well, I wouldn't want to bother him..."

 

"I assure you, it would not be a bother."


	3. Chapter 3

Standing outside of the door to the lab Bruce was hiding in, Tony took a moment to get himself into the right mindset. JARVIS had warned him that Bruce could sense that Tony was upset earlier when they met during the battle, so he needed to ensure that it didn't happen again.

 

Having settled his mind so he was mentally prepared for what he was about to see, Tony took a breath and opened the door.

 

"Hi, Bruce!" Tony smiled as he walked through the lab door and saw Bruce. "I brought you--"

 

He was cut off by a clattering sound as the child scampered away and hid under a lab table. He stared out at Tony and trembled in the grey SHIELD-issue jumper and tracksuit bottoms SHIELD had dressed him in.

 

Tony frowned at the nearest camera. "JARVIS," he glared. "You told me he asked for me!"

 

"He did," JARVIS said tersely.

 

Bruce retreated further under the table.

 

JARVIS pitched his voice slightly softer to speak to Bruce. "There's no cause for concern, Bruce. Mr Stark is not going to hurt you. He was only speaking loudly because he was excited to see you."

 

Bruce looked from Tony to the camera and back to Tony, the his little body still strung with tension.

 

"He's not going to hurt me, either," JARVIS promised. "He can be short sometimes with people he trusts, but he doesn't mean it."

 

Bruce relaxed slightly, but did not move from under the table.

 

"Hurt... you?" Tony asked JARVIS, confused.

 

"Bruce has been concerned for my well-being," JARVIS explained.

 

"Right," Tony said, not understanding at all. "Anyway, as I was saying, I brought you honeydew juice. I don't know if you still like honeydew juice." He frowned. "Used to like? Ugh. Verb tenses. JARVIS said he told you what happened?"

 

Bruce nodded. Tony held out a bottle of juice.

 

"You gonna leave me hanging?" Tony asked.

 

"Thank you," Bruce said quietly, taking the bottle.

 

Tony nodded and crawled to the lab table across the aisle from the one Bruce was hiding under, so they were facing each other and each sitting under a lab table.

 

"Huh. Haven't sat under a lab bench in years. At least not when I was--" He cut himself off just before saying 'sober'; he had seen enough of Bruce's file not to make that mistake. "Awake," he said, after a pause.

 

Bruce stared at him dubiously. Tony opened his own stainless steel bottle of water and took a sip from it. Bruce mimicked the move with the juice. Then, apparently deciding that he liked it, he drank half the rest, closed the bottle, and stared at Tony.

 

"JARVIS said that you could stop them from doing experiments on me," Bruce said after a few seconds of silence.

 

Tony frowned and Bruce looked like he wanted to curl in on himself, but made a conscious decision not to.

 

"Oh, yeah, of course. No experiments."

 

"I woke up in a lab," Bruce said. "They had taken my blood."

 

He pushed up his sleeve on his arm, which had several pierce marks and a large bruise that covered most of his inner arm. There were also several other bruises in various stages of healing--dark bruises and cut marks around his wrist, welts higher up above his elbow, and small, round burn marks going up his arm.

 

Tony unconsciously leaned forward to take a look, but the movement startled Bruce; the child pulled his arm back and retreated back under the lab table. Mirroring him, Tony retreated under his own lab table.

 

"I have small veins," Bruce explained, pulling his sleeve back down. "The large bruise in the centre is from all the attempts the nurse would have had to make to get a hit. The other ones were there before."

 

Tony stared at him, lost in shock.

 

"Dad got mad when his last attempt to fix me failed," Bruce explained.

 

"... Fix... you?"

 

"He doesn't want me to be a monster," the boy said sadly. "I don't want to be a monster, either."

 

"You're not a monster," Tony said automatically.

 

Bruce rolled his eyes. "My favourite way to think about special relativity is using four-vectors."

 

Tony frowned. Bruce squared his shoulders and glared defiantly at Tony. It took Tony a moment to figure out what Bruce was trying to get at.

 

When he realised it was a test, Tony smirked. "You mean Minkowski space?"

 

Bruce narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

 

"Dude, that's like the _only_ way to think about relativity. I mean, good luck doing GR with concepts like time dilation and length contraction--you'd make a mess. You've got to see space-time as a manifold with Minkowski structures on the tangent spaces."

 

Bruce stared at Tony in shock. Tony grinned smugly at him for a few seconds before turning to the camera. "JARVIS, the sample Bruce mentioned--"

 

"I have already ensured that Agent Barton and Agent Romanov found out about the blood sample," JARVIS said. "They dealt with the situation. The blood sample will not be misused and the agents who authorised it will be spoken to."

 

Right then, Tony's phone buzzed.

 

Tony swiped it open to see at text.

 

_They are having it brought to the Tower, so you can compare it to the blood samples the adult Dr Banner allowed you to take. -JARVIS_

 

"Well, then that's taken care of," Tony reassured Bruce. "Barton and Romanov are the best agents in the world. If they say they have it under control, they do."

 

Bruce nodded.

 

"So," Tony said casually. "What do you say we blow this joint? Get away from all the scary agents. I mean, unless you're enjoying that lab table, which, well I'm not judging--it is kinda cosy." As Tony spoke, he ran his hand down the side of the lab table he was hiding under. "Of course, probably better suited for someone your size. I can't even sit straight without bumping into the table."

 

"Where do you want to go?" Bruce asked

 

"Somewhere off this Helicarrier. You know what a Helicarrier is, right?"

 

Bruce started to shake his head, but when Tony raised an eyebrow at him, he changed it to a nod and looked down.

 

"You don't think it's weird?" He asked softly. "My dad says an eight-year-old shouldn't be able to do these things."

 

"Of course it's weird. But in an awesome way! Like, I don't mean to brag, but when I was six, I built my own remote-controlled mini-helicopter. And when I was ten I could integrate better than a lot of college students. Actually, who am I kidding, I totally mean to brag--wanna see a video of eleven-year-old me taking on MIT's integration bee?"

 

Bruce smiled shyly. "May I?"

 

"Sure! Um, JARVIS, could you--"

 

Tony's phone buzzed and he pulled up the most recent text, which was a home video depicting the integration bee he described. Edwin Jarvis, his father's butler, had personally flown with him to MIT for the integration bee in a late January many years ago.

 

Bruce pointed at something eleven-year-old Tony was writing on the board. "What's that?" he asked.

 

"That's the contour," Tony said. "I'm doing contour integration with the residue theorem."

 

Bruce stared at him blankly.

 

"Ah... you don't know what that is yet, do you? You are going to have _so_ much fun." He knew the adult Bruce loved complex analysis and contour integration was his favourite integration trick; as long as the integral was an elementary function, Bruce could do it with contours.

 

Bruce looked surprised at Tony's response, but pressed on with his next question. "Why was it your butler who took you? Did your parents know you were doing this?'

 

"Yeah, they were just too busy to care."

 

"But they would be okay with it if they knew?"

 

"Dunno," Tony shrugged. "But you're missing the point. Normal is boring. _Different_ is the best way to be."

 

"Huh," Bruce said, not convinced, but apparently getting there. "Why are there so many spectrometers here scanning for gamma radiation?"

 

Tony shrugged. "SHIELD looks for weird stuff. It's what they do. I guess it so happens that a lot of weird stuff emits gamma."

 

"And does gamma radiation also _cause_ weird stuff?"

 

"I guess. Why?" Tony frowned.

 

The child curled in on himself. "So it's true then, about gamma monsters?"

 

"What's true?"

 

"My dad said the reason I'm a monster is that he worked with gamma radiation before I was born."

 

"He sounds like an idiot."

 

Bruce's eyes widened in shock.

 

Tony shrugged, not wanting to apologise for something that was in his opinion an understatement, if anything. "My earlier offer to get out of here still stands. If, you know, you're getting tired of the scenery."

 

Bruce's shocked face slowly turned into a conspiratorial smile. "We're in a quad-rotor-craft 30,000 feet above the ocean," Bruce said. "How exactly do you plan to leave?"

 

Tony smiled. "Ah, but you see it's quad-rotor-craft that happens to be an aircraft carrier. We'll take a plane."

 

"SHIELD lets its consultants do that?"

 

"Please. As if SHIELD would find out."

 

"They're a military organisation," Bruce said. "They must track their planes."

 

Tony smirked. "Hear that, JARVIS? Kid thinks you can't override a SHIELD tracker. Are you going to take that sitting down?"

 

JARVIS sighed. "Not everyone takes underestimation as poorly as you do, sir. Some of us enjoy it. In any case, I am ready to handle the tracker on any aircraft you wish to steal."

 

Tony rolled his eyes at JARVIS, before smiling at Bruce. "There you go. Ready to blow this joint?"

 

Bruce shrugged and crawled out from under the lab table. Tony followed suit.

 

They two of them made their way to the hangar, after stopping by the lab Tony was using to pick up his armour-suitcase. Once they were at the hangar, JARVIS diverted the agents by sending them texts apparently from their superior officers, and Bruce and Tony made their way across. Just as they were about to get on the plane, however, they heard a voice from behind.

 

"Whirling Dervish!" Clint said loudly. He and Natasha entered the hangar and walked deliberately towards Tony and Bruce.

 

Bruce jumped at the sound of Clint's voice and moved as though to hide, before changing his mind and standing defiantly next to Tony.

 

"This isn't what it looks like!" Tony said. "Actually it probably looks like I'm kidnapping Bruce and stealing a plane, in which this is exactly what it looks like. But! I'm heavily armed and you two aren't gonna be able to stop me."

 

Clint shrugged. "You heading to the Tower?"

 

"That's the plan," Tony said.

 

"Sounds like a good idea," Clint said.

 

"Better place for a kid than this Helicarrier anyway," Natasha added.

 

"But there are a few things I need to ask Bruce," Clint said. "And you," he added to Tony.

 

Tony scowled at him.

 

"Harmless things, I promise!" Clint said.

 

Tony looked down at Bruce who looked like he was debating taking off again. It was not unlike the expression the adult Bruce made when he was about to take the next flight to Africa or something. "This is Clint and that's Natasha. They're my friends. They're not going to hurt us. Do you think you can answer some of Clint's questions?"

 

Bruce nodded. Clint walked towards Bruce, and the child flinched. Clint nodded, as though confirming something and got down on one knee, sitting back onto his foot, so he was eye-level with Bruce.

 

"Is it scary when someone comes into a room you're in or gets close to you and you didn't realise that they were there?" Clint asked.

 

Bruce startled and then stared at him for a few seconds before nodding, posture tense.

 

Clint nodded empathetically. "Me, too. That's why when I was little, my favourite foster parents had a codeword. Do you know what that is?"

 

Bruce shook his head. Tony tilted his head questioningly, curious as to where Clint was going with this.

 

"A codeword is a word they would say when one of them entered a room I was in, or when they were getting in my personal space or about to touch me, so I wasn't caught by surprise and had time to refuse if I wasn't comfortable."

 

Bruce raised his eyebrows. Tony felt himself mirroring the move.

 

"Whirling Dervish," Tony murmured as understanding dawned.

 

Clint looked up at him. "Yeah. Having the word made me feel like my personal space was being respected and I had control of my own body. The fifteen months in that foster home was the safest I felt in the first twenty years of my life."

 

Tony nodded. "Good call. What else you got?"

 

Clint smirked at him before turning back to Bruce. "Are there things that make you feel comfortable when you are scared? Some kind of music, the smell of pancakes, that sort of thing?"

 

Bruce shook his head. Then he thought about it for a moment. "Blues," he said. "Mum used to play blues music on nights when dad wasn't coming home. It was nice."

 

Clint nodded. Tony pocket-texted JARVIS to make sure he caught that.

 

"Good, you're doing very well, Bruce," Clint said. "Just one more thing."

 

Clint reached into a pocket and pulled out three large pieces of paper that had been folded several times. He unfolded them to reveal blue-prints of the Helicarrier.

 

"I'm only showing you these because I know you've already seen them, since Tony here has obviously been helping you evade SHIELD's agents," Clint said. "I also know that you've been lifting food wherever you could find it and stashing it in hiding spots all over the Helicarrier."

 

Bruce blanched and took a small step back, lowering his head and worrying at his lip.

 

"Hey, it's okay, I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

 

Bruce glanced back at him in surprise.

 

"Hunger sucks," Clint shrugged. "Planning for your next meal is just common sense. However, since you and Tony are about to leave, and I have no interest in this whole place smelling like rotting food a week from now, I would really appreciate if you would indicate on these blueprints where you hid stuff so I can go retrieve it before it goes bad. Okay?"

 

Bruce nodded and took the blueprint and pen from Clint's hand.

 

While Bruce was working, Clint stood up to have a few final words with Tony.

 

"How'd you know about the food hiding?" Tony asked.

 

Clint narrowed his eyes as though unsure of whether Tony was being deliberately obtuse. "All eight-year-olds hide food. Old enough to know to prepare for hunger, not old enough to get a job even with a fake ID."

 

"I didn't know that," Tony said, suddenly worried. What else didn't he know?

 

"... I see," Clint said.

 

"Anything else the good foster parents did?" Tony asked.

 

"Never hit him. No matter what he does to you," Clint said. "Time-outs are also not very effective punishments."

 

Tony rolled his eyes. "Obviously," he muttered.

 

"Just being thorough. Don't touch him without permission, especially if he's been triggered. Anything can be a trigger. Apologise if you forget to codeword. Don't yell at anyone in front of him. Don't tower over him; sit on the floor if you have to. He's going to test you... Oh, he's already tested you, hasn't he?"

 

Tony nodded, thinking about Bruce showing off his knowledge of Minkowski spaces and clearly expecting Tony to disapprove.

 

"Great, glad you passed. He's going to test you again, and again after that, and depending on how soon we get Dr Banner back, at some point you might fail. Don't forget to apologise when that happens. Also, I can tell he's got a lot of bruises from the way he's holding himself. I'm sure you know how to treat bruises, but remember that the no-unwanted-touching rule applies to treating wounds."

 

Tony nodded, taking in everything Clint was saying.

 

"That's all I got," Clint said. "I'll text you if I think of anything."

 

"Thanks," Tony said, feeling even less confident that he could handle the child. Still, it wasn't like he could trust anyone else with the kid.

 

"Good luck," Clint said.

 

Just then, Bruce finished marking the blueprints and approached Clint.

 

"Thanks," Clint smiled at him, taking the blueprints. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a flapjack. "Here, for the trip," he said.

 

"Thank you," Bruce said, taking the flapjack timidly.

 

"Have a good trip," Clint said to Bruce. Then he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Take care of Tony for us. He needs it."

 

Bruce smiled at him.

 

Tony rolled his eyes and ushered Bruce onto the plane, rambling about how annoying it was that Clint and Natasha had essentially let him take the plane--stealing was no fun when the victim gave you the item you were planning to steal. After a few minutes, Bruce fell asleep to the tune of Tony's rambling, and Tony spent the rest of the flight texting Pepper to prepare her for the situation.


	4. Chapter 4

"Psst... Bruce, wake up!" Tony said softly when they were fifteen minutes from New York City.

 

Bruce shot upright and glanced around at his surroundings before turning to Tony. His little fingers were tense around the hem of his jumper.

 

"It's okay," Tony said. "I'm Tony and I'm just taking you to the tower from the Helicarrier. Remember?"

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, but the hand on the hem of his jumper relaxed.

 

"Right, of course you do," Tony said. "Anyway, we're landing in about fifteen minutes, and I'm going to go sit in the cockpit until we do, because JARVIS thinks he needs a copilot for landing or something. Don't know where he picked up that lack of confidence, because it sure wasn't from me."

 

"Sir, aviation regulations of the New York City air space do not allow aeroplanes without human pilots to land. My level of confidence is not relevant."

 

"Rules, rules, rules," Tony sighed. He winked conspiratorially at Bruce, who rewarded him with an amused smile.

 

JARVIS did not deign to reply as he opened the cockpit door for Tony.

 

"See ya planet-side, buddy," Tony said. He made a move to ruffle Bruce's hair, but thought better of it, and slipped into the cockpit.

 

****************

 

Tony ordered dinner after they got to the tower, but Bruce had fallen asleep again by the time it arrived, so Tony tucked him in a bed in one of the guest rooms, left some non-perishable food on the table by the bed, and asked JARVIS to take care of Bruce if he was disoriented in the morning, before going off to bed himself, after a day that lasted entirely too long.

 

When he woke up the next morning, it was to JARVIS's voice.

 

"Good morning, sir. It is 8:24 AM. The temperature is 20°C and the sky is clear with a 20% chance of precipitation in the afternoon. Master Banner has had breakfast and is currently in your workshop--"

 

"What!?" Tony asked, stopping in the middle of putting on his trousers.

 

"--safe, reasonably relaxed, and playing chess with DUM-E."

 

Tony smirked. "Who's winning?"

 

"They have just about reached the endgame and both are in non-losing positions. I would estimate that DUM-E has a sixty percent chance of winning."

 

"Nice," Tony said. He knew DUM-E never went easy on an opponent and almost no children Bruce's age could make it to the endgame with the robot.

 

"Ms Potts would like a meeting to discuss your plans for the next few days in light of recent developments."

 

"Yeah, sure, put her in at whenever she wants."

 

That done, Tony got cleaned up, grabbed a coffee, and made his way down to his workshop to see Bruce. He found the child sitting in the centre of the workshop, dressed in a t-shirt and blue jeans that fit perfectly; JARVIS must have had them delivered. He was deep in concentration, facing away from the door and towards the chessboard. Tony noticed that there weren't a lot of pieces on the board, so they must have been playing the same game that JARVIS had mentioned.

 

Tony decided not to speak up and distract Bruce from his turn, but when he took a step forward to see how the game was looking, JARVIS decided to announce his presence anyway.

 

"Bruce, Mr Stark is here to see you," JARVIS said.

 

Bruce jumped and whirled around, shifting the chessboard and knocking the pieces over.

 

DUM-E let out two sad beeps and snapped his claw petulantly at Tony.

 

"Sorry," Tony took a step back and raised his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you."

 

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Bruce said. "I didn't mean to be scared."

 

Internally, Tony thanked JARVIS for announcing his presence. If he had actually managed to sneak up on Bruce, things might have gone much worse.

 

DUM-E started putting the chess pieces back into their prior positions, but Bruce turned fully to face Tony.

 

"JARVIS said I could come down here," Bruce offered after a few seconds.

 

"Yeah, of course," Tony said. "Enjoying the workshop? I see you've met DUM-E."

 

"JARVIS introduced us," Bruce nodded. "He's pretty awesome."

 

DUM-E beeped affectionately.

 

Bruce smiled. "He seems to enjoy beating me at chess. He did this victory dance when he won last time. I thought he was going berserk at first, but JARVIS told me that it was a dance."

 

Tony laughed. "Yeah, that sounds like him." He cast a glance at DUM-E, who had his camera pointed contemplatively at the chess board. "And he's looking a bit antsy to keep playing. I'll leave you to it?"

 

"Okay," Bruce said.

 

Tony settled in the lab adjacent to the workshop, so he could keep an eye on Bruce.

 

It didn't seem necessary, however, because after the game ended, the child settled for the mostly non-dangerous activity of asking JARVIS questions about the modern world, learning about smartphones, the computer networks, and other advances in technology from the last three decades.

 

When Tony was about to leave to meet with Pepper, however, JARVIS brought up a question.

 

"Sir, I predict that Master Banner will soon be using the internet to look up information, which may naturally lead to questions about himself, you, the Hulk, and the Avengers. How would you suggest handling the situation?"

 

Tony thought for a moment before answering. "Don't show him anything suggesting a link between him and the Hulk. I'll fill him in myself. And try not to prime him with the idea that the Hulk is a mindless monster or something; don't wanna make my life any harder."

 

"Are you certain?" JARVIS asked. "Master Banner's trust is already so precarious..."

 

"It'll be better if he hears it from me instead of those media assclowns who want the Hulk in a cage or worse," Tony insisted. "I'll talk to him at lunch."

 

"Very well, sir."

 

****************

 

Pepper was understandably confused about the situation when Tony talked to her, but she maintained her characteristic composure as she helped him reschedule his SI-related tasks around his new responsibility. 

 

When Tony went back down to the workshop, Bruce smiled brightly at him.

 

"Hi Bruce," Tony said. "Enjoying yourself?"

 

"Yep!" Bruce said. "JARVIS has been showing me around on the internet. It's kind of awesome!'

 

"Yeah, quite a feat of technology!" Tony agreed.

 

"I'm hungry," Bruce said. "Can we go get lunch?"

 

Tony had to hide his surprise; for the first time since he was de-aged, Bruce had made an actual request instead of just timidly agreeing to whatever Tony suggested. Moreover, his whole attitude had changed from downcast and trembling to bright-eyed and cheerful. Not wanting to discourage the child's new attitude, Tony gave him a wide smile.

 

"Sure! You want anything in particular?"

 

"Can we go out?" Bruce asked. "I've never been to Manhattan."

 

"Uh..." Tony baulked at that. He wasn't sure it was safe to bring Bruce out into the heart of Manhattan so soon after he turned up.

 

Bruce's face fell. "It's okay," he said ducking his head. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

 

"No! I was just surprised you asked. These days it's so hard to get kids to leave their computer screens and go outside, so you know. Anyway let's go. How do you feel about Italian? There are a few nice places around the block. Or sushi? There's also lots of that around here..." Tony rambled as he ushered Bruce up to his room to grab a child-sized jacket. He tried to alleviate his worry by reminding himself that SHIELD would have made sure that Bruce's de-aging was not leaked; as far as anyone else was concerned, he was just a random kid.

 

They ended up settling for a small Asian sandwich shop just around the block.

 

During the trip there, Bruce switched between awe and confusion at the sheer intensity of the city: its imposing buildings, vibrant lights, and bustling crowds. He bumped into several people dashing to their next appointments before he got the hang of navigating the foot-traffic.

 

At the shop, after he and Tony made messes of their glazed pork belly sandwiches, Bruce excused himself to go to the washroom.

 

While Bruce was out, Tony went back over some of the analysis he was working on in the morning. Then he checked his inbox and answered several messages from the other Avengers asking how things were going.

 

When Bruce didn't come out of the washroom for fifteen minutes, Tony started to get concerned. Another five minutes later, he went to the washroom himself to check.

 

"Hey Bruce, are you okay?" Tony asked.

 

"...Yeah," Bruce said, but his voice quavered.

 

"Do you have a stomach-ache? Are you feeling sick?"

 

"A little, but I'm okay," Bruce sounded more confident. Tony heard a rustling sound and then the toilet flushing, and Bruce came out, sporting the same smile again.

 

"Sorry about that," Bruce said. "I was feeling kind of weird, but I'm okay now."

 

"Are you sure?" Tony asked. "Because JARVIS is a medical genius. We could head back to the tower and--"

 

"No, it's fine! Really," Bruce said.

 

"Okay," Tony said. "Are you done eating? Or do you want something else? There's a bubble tea place not too far out of our way, if you want."

 

Bruce agreed to bubble tea. On the way back, as they passed through Bryant Park, Tony decided that it was as good a time as any the broach the subject of the Avengers and the Hulk, as he had promised JARVIS. Besides, Bruce was bound to find out sooner or later.

 

"So Bruce, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

 

Bruce looked up at Tony and raised his eyebrows.

 

"What do you know about the Avengers?"

 

Bruce stopped walking.

 

"Bruce?"

 

"Is this the part where you tell me why you and JARVIS both neglected to mention that I turn into a mindless monster called the Hulk who likes to hurt and kill people?"

 

"Shhh!" Tony admonished, looking around to make sure nobody caught the child's outburst. "And the Hulk isn't mindless or a monster. And he doesn't hurt or kill people who aren't trying to do worse to him or his friends. And where did you get that idea anyway?"

 

"I have enough body awareness not to bump into people by accident," Bruce said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a year-old StarkPhone model with a pink sticker covering the back that read 'Keep calm and go shopping'.

 

Tony suddenly remembered the trip to the sandwich shop, when Bruce kept bumping into other pedestrians as if by accident while pretending to be in awe of the city.

 

"You pick-pocketed someone. A teenage girl, if that sticker's anything to go on. Bruce, you can't just steal--" Tony stopped short, remembering the exchange before they headed out. "Wait, you planned this from the beginning. That's why you wanted to go out for lunch in the first place."

 

"I planned this when I realised JARVIS was _censoring the internet_ ," Bruce said, his voice rising with anger. "And did he really think I would buy that there's this huge green creature smashing about and no major media outlet was calling to have it imprisoned or put down? How stupid did he think I was?" 

 

The two stared at each other for a few minutes, as Tony's surprise morphed into remorse.

 

"I'm sorry. That was my fault," Tony said finally. "I asked JARVIS to do that. I wanted to tell you about the Hulk myself, but... Anyway, no excuses--having JARVIS lie to you was patronising and wrong, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

 

Bruce's eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock at Tony's apology. Then he deflated and his lip started trembling and before Tony could react, he was curled into a sobbing ball, sitting on the kerb of the lawn.

 

Unsure of what to do, Tony sat on the kerb by Bruce's side. Bruce leaned in towards him and Tony placed a hand awkwardly, but gently, on the boy's shoulder.

 

"I'm sorry," Tony said. "This must all be so confusing."

 

"So you... you don't deny that I'm the Hulk," Bruce murmurred between sniffs.

 

"The Hulk isn't bad or mindless like those judgemental media bigots like to paint him. He's saved so many people so many times and yeah, he gets mad when someone tries to kill him or someone he loves, but that's just what people do."

 

"I can't believe dad was right about me," Bruce whispered.

 

"He said you'd be an awesome _hero who protects his friends and saves lives_?"

 

Bruce lifted his head to glare at Tony with his large, glistening eyes.

 

Tony mock-glared back at him until Bruce let out a muted bark of laughter out of morbid amusement at the situation. Then he frowned again.

 

"Stop it," Bruce said, looking away from Tony.

 

"Stop what? Stop tricking you into laughing when you're trying to be sad and distressed?"

 

"Yes! How would you feel waking up thirty years in the future and finding out that in the meantime you've become a... a... Hulk."

 

Tony opened his mouth to give a pithy response, only to realise he had _no idea_ how that would feel.

 

"I don't know," Tony said honestly. "It must be awful."

 

They sat in silence for a while, as Bruce finally started to calm himself, wiping his tears on his shirt.

 

"I'm sorry for manipulating you," Bruce said, after a few minutes passed.

 

"That's okay. I mean, I'm not the one missing her phone right now," Tony said pointedly.

 

"I should give Vivian Weng her phone back," Bruce admitted.

 

"Probably a good plan. An apology might not be a bad idea either."

 

In the end, Vivian Weng was easy to track down from the shipping address on her Amazon account, which led to the studio apartment she was subletting during her one-semester intern-ship. Getting her to listen to Bruce's apology was much more difficult; the young woman was too busy squealing over the fact that Tony Stark was at her door to pay any attention. Bruce managed to bite out a passable apology anyway, and Tony autographed a poster for her, which just about sated her fervour.

 

Bruce and Tony were both exhausted by the time they got back to Stark Tower.

 

****************

 

[Meanwhile, in a small, run-down flat one kilometre away:]

 

"Brilliant," James said, his long fingers flipping through the photographs his wife, Daisy, had taken of Tony Stark's romp into town that day. "Wonder who the kid is? Nephew? Secret illegitimate child?"

 

"Who cares?" Daisy tilted her head and twirled the large curls of her naturally orange hair around her elegant fingers. "It's clear Stark cares about him, innit? That's all we need."

 

"The question is how much," James agreed. He looked into her eyes and smiled. "This is going to be very interesting."

 

"Mmm, we have been looking so long for the right leverage," Daisy smiled back at him as she climbed onto his lap and shared a slow, sweet kiss with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) So you know how in the last chapter Clint suggested that Bruce would be a difficult child? Turns out, he wasn't kidding about that.
> 
> 2) De-anoned, as you can see. The rapidly shrinking set of guilty pleasures that embarrass me no longer includes de-age-fic.
> 
> 3) The science is not strong with this one, at least as far as the de-aging process and the process of fixing it go. Those who have read my other fics know that I like to keep the "science" reasonable and science-y. Not so for this fic. If it helps, think of it as science fiction fantasy, a bit heavier on the fantasy this time around.
> 
> 4) I'm struggling with parts of this fic and could use a beta/someone to bounce ideas off of, just to check if they're terrible. Give me a shout if you might be able to help.


	5. Chapter 5

Though Clint had wanted to check up on Tony and Bruce in the tower as soon as he could, he found himself on an assignment, and it was three weeks before he managed to swing by Stark Tower.

 

When he did, he found Bruce sitting tucked against the enormous window of Tony's living room, reading a blue hard-cover book with "Quantum Mechanics" written across the top and a picture of a cat on the front cover.

 

He looked up when Clint walked in.

 

"Hey Bruce, remember me?" Clint asked.

 

"Hi, Clint." Bruce smiled shyly.

 

"How are you?" Clint asked.

 

"Okay," Bruce said.

 

A slight discolouration on the child's cheek caught Clint's eye, and when he looked more closely he saw a huge bruise covering most of his cheek. It was about a week old and had faded so that someone who wasn't paying attention might have missed it, but Clint could tell that it came from a fairly serious collision between Bruce's face and something hard.

 

Right then, Tony came out of the kitchen, holding a freshly brewed mug of coffee in one hand and a tablet with a scientific journal article open on it in the other. When he saw Clint, he started to greet him, but Clint cut him off.

 

"Tony, can I talk to you?" Clint asked.

 

Tony glanced at Bruce and his eyes widened in understanding. He nodded, set the coffee down on the table, and followed Clint out into the hallway.

 

"I know what this looks like," Tony said as soon as the doors slid shut. "I swear it was an accident--he fell and slammed into DUM-E."

 

Clint was pretty good at thinking about projectiles and angles--and injuries for that matter--and that explanation didn't sound plausible, unless Bruce had fallen while running four feet in the air. He stayed silent, letting Tony continue.

 

"Okay, that didn't come out right, either," Tony said. "Just... JARVIS, show him the footage."

 

He handed Clint his tablet, which showed footage from Tony's workshop. In the video, Bruce was apparently practising parkour, leaping onto tables and counters and jumping between them. He appeared to be consulting online videos between attempts.

 

"Ah," Clint understood. The injury now made sense. The parkour didn't surprise him either; as an adult, Bruce had evaded an entire platoon of soldiers in the slums of Rio for several hours.

 

Clint winced when he saw Bruce overshoot a counter-top and fall onto DUM-E. "Huh. Why did you let him do that?"

 

"Do you really think I could stop that kid if he wants to learn something?" Tony asked.

 

"But why in your workshop? It may be hard for a geek like you to imagine, but there is such a thing as _outside_."

 

"Yeah... about that," Tony sighed.

 

Then he launched into a story of what had happened the last time Tony had taken Bruce outside, which was three weeks earlier, the day after he brought Bruce to the tower. The story proceeded with the inevitability of a train wreck; Clint understood why Tony had tried to censor the child's internet, but given what Clint had seen of Bruce's file, it was also glaringly obvious that it wasn't going to work.

 

"Hm..." Clint said after hearing Tony's story. "So as a punishment for pickpocketing someone, he's not allowed to go outside for what three? Four weeks? A bit harsh, but I suppose it's reasonable..."

 

"It's not a punishment," Tony said. "It's a precaution to keep him safe. We were damn lucky that girl didn't think about talking to the police or something and if Bruce gets caught committing a felony, well, I can't take the risk."

 

"You don't think you could prevent that?"

 

"Dude, you have no idea. He was _good at it_ , okay? He knew exactly how to play me. There was no way to tell."

 

"I find that hard to believe," Clint said. "He's eight, and that shit takes years of focused practice--I've seen kids trained by pros. Even the best ones project their marks. You just have to keep an eye out for it."

 

"Yeah well, we can't all be Hawkeye, can we? And not all of us spent our youths hanging with professional pickpockets, either."

 

Clint smiled at that.

 

"Tell you what," Clint said. "How about next time you take him out, I'll go with you?"

 

Tony thought about it for a moment. Then he nodded. "Right now work for you?"

 

"Sure," Clint said.

 

Tony made to take the tablet out of Clint's hands, but Clint stopped him.

 

"Wait, hang on."

 

The segment of footage had finished playing, but Clint flicked it back and pointed to a part near the end, after Bruce's collision with DUM-E, where Tony was trying to soothe the child. A young woman with curly, naturally red hair had stepped in with a clipboard, which she put aside to help Tony soothe the kid.

 

"Who's that?" Clint asked, pointing at the young woman.

 

"My PA," Tony answered. "She was stopping by and saw the accident."

 

"Is she new?"

 

"Not really. Bit more than two weeks I think?"

 

"That's not new?"

 

"Well, considering how many of them lasted less than a day... I have high hopes for this one."

 

Clint frowned. "You should be careful. There's something off about her."

 

Tony frowned. "Huh. JARVIS, check her credentials."

 

"We have already checked them through all _legal_ means. Would you like them checked through all means?"

 

"Uh, yeah?" Tony said. "And while you're at it, check SHIELD's databases. Because if they pulled another Natalie Rushman on me--"

 

"She's not SHIELD," Clint interrupted.

 

"--Fury and I are going to need to have a serious chat."

 

"Yeah, about your habit of checking SHIELD's databases," Clint muttered as he handed back the tablet and followed Tony back into the living room.

 

**********

 

"Hi, Bruce," Clint said again as he entered the living room. "Sorry about that."

 

Bruce gave him a curious look, but didn't say anything.

 

"How's Griffiths?" Tony asked, gesturing at the book.

 

"Better than Weinberg," Bruce answered.

 

"That's blasphemy," Tony responded. "But I'm not going to argue with you. Instead, I will take solace in the fact that when you're older, you'll understand how superior Weinberg is."

 

"The your-older-self-agrees-with-me argument is getting old really fast," Bruce rolled his eyes.

 

"Yeah, whatever," Tony said. 

 

Clint took a moment to marvel at the change that had undergone Bruce in the past three weeks, going from the timid child, running through SHIELD hiding from anyone and everyone to this wise-ass who wreaked havoc in the workshop and stood his ground snarking against Tony Stark.

 

Then he thought about his own childhood and remembered that the two attitudes were not incompatible.

 

"Hey Bruce," Tony said, changing the subject. "Weren't you having trouble with that parkour move? The kung fu jump or something?"

 

Bruce frowned, confused, before realising what Tony was talking about. "You mean the Kong vault?"

 

"Yeah, sure. Wanna try it again? Clint here could spot you."

 

Clint had not actually offered to spot Bruce, but he did have enough familiarity with most parkour vaults both to spot Bruce and offer some pointers.

 

Bruce's face fell and he averted his eyes as he spoke. "DUM-E's still mad at me for falling on him and knocking him over. He makes upset beeps at me when I so much as climb on a counter."

 

"I doubt DUM-E's mad at you," Tony said. "He's probably worried. He gets like that sometimes. But anyway, I was thinking we could go outside."

 

Bruce looked up and his eyes narrowed. "Really?"

 

"Really," Tony said.

 

Bruce's face lit up. "Thank you! I won't steal stuff again, I promise!"

 

"Good to know. Why don't you go grab a sweater? We can meet you back here."

 

Bruce beamed and scurried off.

 

Clint turned to Tony. "I take it you didn't tell him it wasn't a punishment?"

 

"Not as such," Tony admitted. "But I didn't technically tell him he couldn't go outside, either. I just didn't offer to take him, and he didn't ask."

 

"Fair enough." Clint didn't think that was much better, since the child clearly understood it to be a punishment, but he knew Tony was trying, so he decided not to argue.

 

There was an awkward silence.

 

"Okay, fine," Tony said. "I fucked up. I'm--"

 

"I didn't say that. I didn't say anything at all."

 

"You were thinking it. And how are you so good at this anyway?" Tony complained, though without any heat.

 

"Am I?"

 

"It took hours of convincing for him to tolerate my presence, and then you show up and suddenly he's leaping to his feet ready to have an adventure with you. How does that even work?"

 

"It's because he gets it," Bruce said from the doorway.

 

Clint wondered if Bruce had figured out that it was Clint's bed in the rafters that he had slept in on the Helicarrier.

 

"Gets what?" Tony asked.

 

"Exactly," Clint couldn't resist saying.

 

Bruce smiled up at him as he pulled on the red and gold Iron Man sweater he had retrieved.

 

"Also," Bruce added, "he didn't get mad at me for stealing his food from his nest."

 

"Nest?!" Clint turned on Bruce with mock indignation.

 

"What, I don't get mad at you for stealing my food, either!" Tony said, equally indignant.

 

"You don't _have_ any food," Bruce said with a straight face.

 

Clint snorted when he understood what Bruce meant. The day Bruce was brought to the Helicarrier, Clint had left a packet of instant noodles on his bed, though there was no stove, microwave, or hot water dispenser in that part of the Helicarrier. Later he found the packet half-eaten (but still uncooked) in a maintenance shaft.

 

Clint normally ate healthily these days; uncooked ramen was just a comfort food he occasionally indulged in. Still, if Bruce shared his taste for it, it was no surprise he refused to call what Tony kept around 'food'.

 

Clint smirked and watched Tony dawning expression of horror as he, too, figured out what Bruce was talking about.

 

" _I_ don't have food? Clint eats potato chip sandwiches! What the hell is a potato chip sandwich?" Tony shook his head. "You two. You just... You're incorrigible. Hopeless. There is no hope what-so-ever."

 

Clint and Bruce shared a smile as they walked out the door.

 

 

********

 

It was a beautiful day out, so Clint and Tony decided to take Bruce out to a park a few blocks away from the tower. There were several children playing in the park, with their nannies or stay-at-home mothers watching on the sidelines. Clint noticed Bruce staring longingly at two children riding bicycles with training wheels on the paved paths, but he didn't think much of it; he knew that soon enough, the tables would be turned and the other children would be watching Bruce with envy. A quick glance at Tony, however, revealed that the engineer had also noticed the longing stares, but came to a different conclusion: he was searching for children's bikes on his smart-phone.

 

"Don't overdo it," Clint muttered to Tony, glancing pointedly at the phone, which was now displaying a $3000 children's bike.

 

Tony pouted at Clint, but put the phone away.

 

Clint was gratified to find that his prediction was spot on. As soon as he started going over the more impressive vaults and jumps with Bruce, the other children in the park started staring with varying degrees of subtlety and increasing levels of envy.

 

About half an hour in, while Clint was holding Bruce's hand as the latter tried to walk on a railing, one of the other children approached him.

 

"Sir, can you teach me, too?" the boy asked. "I can pay."

 

Bruce lost his balance, let go of Clint's hand, and leaped off the rail, landing in a deep squat. 

 

Clint glanced at the boy. He was of east Asian ethnicity, a few inches taller than Bruce--could have been a tall ten-year-old or a small twelve-year-old. His faded green t-shirt did not cover the bruises on his neck and arms, some of which were not large enough to be made by adult hands. _Probably looking for a way to run away from bullies,_ Clint thought to himself.

 

"I'm sorry, but I don't give paid lessons," Clint said. "But maybe Bruce wouldn't mind the company. Bruce, is it okay if, uh..."

 

"Cho," the kid said, when Clint glanced at him expectantly. "Amadeus Cho."

 

"If Cho played with us?"

 

"Um, okay," Bruce smiled slightly at the taller boy.

 

"Great!" Clint said. "Do you want to help me show him how to do a cat leap?"

 

Bruce was happy to help Clint show Cho how to do a cat leap, and several other moves. Bruce had about two weeks of experience on Cho, but Cho was a quick learner, and remarkably seemed to understand parkour in the same language Bruce did.

 

Soon enough, they were mired in an argument about inelastic collisions and angular momentum, and Clint took a short break, sitting next to Tony on a nearby bench, while still keeping Bruce and Cho in his peripheral vision.

 

Clint asked Tony how he was doing with studying de-aging machine, and Tony started explaining something about not being sure it actually was de-aging. He was in the middle of a tirade about how annoying time-travel was when Clint saw them: three boys, one of them about Cho's height, the other two much taller, and all three significantly heavier set. They snickered to each other as they swaggered up to Cho.

 

Clint stood up. Tony followed his line of sight, put away his phone, and scrambled after him.

 

Some words were exchanged between the boys, and Clint could probably have made them out by lip-reading if he were paying attention, but he was more curious about the fact that Cho's left hand was in his pocket, where he kept his phone, leaving only his right hand to hold a defensive pose. It was an odd move when one was on a brink of a fight. 

 

"Everybody stop!" Clint said in his command voice as soon as one of Cho's bullies threw the first blow. The first time he was placed in a position of command, Clint had spent a week perfecting his command voice--its volume, cadence, inflection, and snap. He was not surprised when all five boys went completely still. 

 

He _was_ surprised when a second later, classical music started to emanate from the pocket of the boy who looked like the ringleader of the bullies. The boy looked mortified. His friends turned to him in shock.

 

"Kay, what is that codger music?" One of them asked.

 

"Did you set that retarded hipster shit as your ringtone?" The other asked, crossing his arms over this oversized, blue t-shirt.

 

"What? I don't!" Kay said, pulling out his mobile phone.

 

Clint cast a glance at Cho and Bruce, who both sported blank expressions. However, there was an amused glint in Cho's eye, whereas Bruce was deliberately regulating his breathing as his heart rate sky-rocketed.

 

Blue-shirt looked over Kay's shoulder at the phone and snorted.

 

"'Hey, you got a nice body, you should be bent over my sofa and gettin' pound!'" he said, reading off the phone. "Wow, didn't know you were into that."

 

"Hey, shove it!" Kay said. "You know I'm not gay."

 

He tried to keep blue-shirt away from the phone, but the other boy managed to get the uppper hand, wresting the phone from Kay and continuing to read. "'Wanna suck my cock, bitch?' Who even sends you these? Oh! It's 'cause you signed up to OKCupid as a girl. Something you aren't telling us?"

 

The third boy watched with an amused expression.

 

At that point Kay had had enough. He leapt onto the other boy. As the two boys tumbled to the ground, the phone careened through the air and fell onto the hard concrete ground.

 

The third kid's amusement morphed into horror.

 

"You broke my phone!" Kay yelled, rounding on Blue-shirt.

 

"Get off me, dude, I was just--"

 

Whatever Blue-shirt was about to say was muffled. At that point, Clint decided enough was enough. He grabbed Kay's hand as it was poised to strike the other boy and pulled him off before he had a chance to draw blood. Tony jumped forward to prevent the other boy from using the distraction to attack Kay.

 

In the next few minutes, Clint and Tony sent both of the brawling boys on their way; the third boy awkwardly walked off himself.

 

After the bullies were gone, Tony turned to Bruce with a gleam in his eyes.

 

"Okay, kid, how'd you do that?" Tony asked. "That must have been one hell of an attack."

 

In his peripheral vision, Clint saw Cho opening his mouth, no doubt to claim his credit, but before he had a chance to, Bruce turned around and made a break for it. He moved without any particular grace, movements borne out of panic rather than deliberate planning. The park they were in was small enough that within seconds, Clint found himself bodily blocking Bruce from running into the street. The child was agile, so he may have been able to run across the street without getting hurt, but Clint wasn't going to take that risk.

 

"Bruce, it's okay, I know you're scared, and that's understandable," Clint said.

 

Bruce stopped, blinked at him, but then continued to struggle to get out of his grasp.

 

"But you know that he wouldn't hurt you, right?" Clint continued. "You're safe with us. Even if you did do something bad, which you obviously didn't."

 

Bruce glanced dubiously at Clint and then over his shoulder at Tony.

 

"Yeah, Jeez!" Cho chimed in, walking up to them. " _I_ was obviously the one who hacked the phone."

 

Bruce stopped struggling and stared at Cho in shock.

 

Tony turned to Cho. "You did?"

 

"Duh! Did you really think a kid his age could pull that hack off-the-cuff, remotely, without even--" He cut himself short as he got a better look at Tony. "Hang on... Are you Tony Stark?"

 

Tony raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Go on, then. How'd you do it?"

 

"Why would I tell you?" Cho narrowed his eyes.

 

Tony tried to motivate him with a job offer, which Cho refused with some childish tirade about not wanting to "sell out" or "work for the man" and condemning corporate America and the heartless bastards who "perpetuate the system". It was a clichéd argument Clint had heard from various juvenile criminals SHIELD tried to offer jobs to, ranging from arrogant little hackers to self-assured young con artists who backed up their egos with far too much experience for their ages.

 

Bruce, however, must never have seen anything like it. When Clint had let go of him, he stood in obvious awe, watching the back and forth between Tony and Cho.

 

"Kid, you're adorably naive," Tony said, raising an eyebrow at Cho. "If you ever get less adorable and less naive, I'm sure you'll know how to contact me."

 

"I'm not the one who--" Cho managed to catch himself before he could fly into a rage. "You know what? Whatever. I don't have to argue with you," Cho turned to Clint. "Thanks for the lesson. You're awesome. Too bad you're with this dude. And Bruce? You're still wrong about the gyroscopic and caster effects. It's all about the sign of the eigenvalues."

 

Before any of them had a chance to reply, Cho turned and left.

 

"Are you okay?" Clint asked Bruce.

 

"He's awesome," Bruce said reverently, still looking at Cho's retreating figure.

 

Tony looked like he wanted to argue.

 

"I mean, he's wrong about you. You're not heartless. You're the kindest person ever."

 

"Aw, you're concerned about my feelings," Tony semi-sarcastically. "Don't be. I'm not that fragile. And I _am_ heartless. Almost literally."

 

"You're a philanthropist. And you saved Manhattan," Bruce said. "And you let a monster in your house--"

 

"I'm not a monster," Clint protested.

 

Bruce rolled his eyes and ignored him. "And you don't care about how smart I am."

 

"Wait, really? He doesn't care?" Clint asked, confused.

 

Back before the de-aging Tony had revelled in his fellow science genius's brilliance; Clint would have expected Tony to be delighted that child-Bruce was a genius, too.

 

Bruce turned large worried eyes on Clint. "Does he? He... he _told_ me he didn't, but you're like a spy or something. You'd know if he was lying."

 

"I... what?" Clint was confused by how upset Bruce seemed at the prospect that Tony might care about his being clever.

 

"Oh god," Tony groaned, rubbing his temples. "Bruce meant I don't care as in I don't think he's a freak or a monster that needs to be fixed or beaten or killed. Which I don't. And which is presumably not what you meant."

 

"Oh shit," Clint wanted to kick himself for not figuring that out. He _had_ seen Bruce's file. "No, not what I meant at all. Tony would never... no. I just meant that he appreciates your intelligence."

 

"Oh," Bruce said. "Yeah, of course he does. 'Cause he's awesome. And understanding and kind and--"

 

"Yeah, we get it," Tony said. "Like I said: not that fragile."

 

"Say, how would you feel about ice cream?" Clint asked, not bothering to be subtle in his attempt to change the tone of the conversation.

 

He saw a moment later that his attempt was also unsuccessful when Bruce's eyes widened fractionally, not in excitement, but in fear.

 

"Uh, okay?" Bruce said in a small voice, obviously attempting to steady his breathing.

 

 _Anything can be a trigger,_ Clint remembered saying to Tony on the Helicarrier. He saw how true those words are.

 

"Cupcakes... I meant cupcakes," Clint said.

 

Bruce gave him a timid, but grateful smile. "I like cupcakes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to AnnaLibertas for being an excellent sounding board.
> 
> I'm sorry for the long delay and sub-par chapter. I had a busy summer and also found this chapter difficult for technical reasons.


End file.
